


Instead Of What The Books Say

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who'd want a normal life anyway? Written for the Springkink prompt: "Kingdom Hearts 2, Axel/Roxas, AU/AR, accusations of witchcraft, 'A man who practises by cup and flame, shall perish by the fire'."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Roxas looked at Axel's outstretched hand, knowing all too well what he was supposed to do and what he longed to do were different things. Knowing what Axel was, and the wildness of his heart, his untamed soul.

Roxas looked into Axel's eyes once more, the promise that wherever they went after this, loneliness would never be part of it.

He took that outstretched hand and ran until his feet were sore.

.

Roxas had an ordinary enough life for a missionary's nephew in a land strange enough to defy his school books' descriptions. The forests there were as black as night, even in daytime, nothing of the lightly sketched drawings and references to green leaves that scholars in his uncle's homeland had written about. Animals skulked around the village's edges, even through them at night if lights were not in enough windows to scare them from the centre. And he was good enough, doing his duties, doing as he was told, learning languages that had died and reading what his uncle and the school asked him to, leaving the village girls alone even when he was old enough to notice their rounded hips and the curves under their aprons.

He'd trained long and hard to follow in his uncle's footsteps even if he didn't believe the words he had to speak, though he'd been reassured at first by words and then by hand that if he just kept doing as he was told and concentrated on his lessons he would come to understand and believe in The Truth.

The truth didn't especially interest him yet, but he was still young enough for that to change, or so he hoped. He was nimble and quick-fingered but no reputable professions required such abilities - still, the languages were sure to be useful someday.

Truth didn't interest him, nor the village, but life did in all its strange splendour. Small creatures, warm or cold blooded that crawled into his bedroom; bigger animals too, visible from his window when they came close enough, as long as they were not so close as to be dangerous. People were so repetitive but wildlife, light things in the black forest, they were all so different from one another.

He knew little of the delicate creatures that came to graze at sunrise when the village was waking but yet to start bustling about, knew less of those that came at night, even more skittish than their daytime brethren. Those interested him all the more, creatures that defied sense by avoiding sunlight, and though he knew it was dangerous, ridiculously so to follow them into the forest at night, the temptation gnawed and gnawed at him until he had to do something about it. A blade and rope seemed enough for a short excursion, tying one end of the rope to a tree close enough to the village for him to find his way back safely even in pitch black, the other to his belt before he headed off.

Logically he should have been terrified, strange noises all around him and tiny life moving past, even brushing past his skin, thorns or perhaps tiny, confused teeth scratching his legs as he went deeper, when a bright flash of light startled him enough that he did have to quickly find a place to relieve himself. It wasn't alone, though, and both the colour of the light flashes and their short life spans were suggestive that they weren't just Ignis Fatuus swamp lights, though he still clutched the rope a little tighter for fear of finding himself stepping into marsh soils as he followed the bursts of light until the rope grew tight. It would be sensible to go no further.

Still, if he were to tie the rope tight to his belt, it could afford him a little more movement, perhaps enough for a clearer view - and if he tied one shirtsleeve to the end of that...

There was a snipping sound behind him that had him panicked as the rope grew taught instead of slackening but common sense in the face of imminent danger made him hold still, one hand resting on his blade as he prayed he wouldn't need to use it. Only a man or something manlike enough to be intelligent could take up a rope like that, and certainly, though the moonlight was weak and the forest dense, he could see clearly that the creature approaching him and barely lined in shadows was at least human in shape.

"Not very tall are you?" That was reasonably non-threatening.

"Um..."

There was a sigh and long, skinny fingers closed around his wrist. "Come with me, I'll take you back to your rope. But don't return, trust me. You're better off not knowing."

Roxas found himself tugged back to his fallen rope, the end frayed from being cut while he had been out here and a quick chill went up his spine at the idea the stranger might have left him lost without the rope to whatever mercy the night had if he'd only been taller. The sensation of being followed didn't leave him until he'd neared the town enough to make out the few lit windows and, in particular, his bedroom's open shutters. "Sleep tight, missionary," whispered the shadows and then he was alone, curious, and aching to go back and see what the shadowed man and the lights had been about.

.

It was a strange experience to walk through the village looking at everyone as if they were unknowns, wishing he'd seen more than a silhouette and felt more than skinny fingers. Instinct nudged him towards Demyx, who didn't ever seem to do more than odd jobs around the village, but that was only because he'd overheard fishermen whispering stories about Demyx talking to the river when the fish were running low and there being an abundance of them afterwards every time. It didn't sound natural but the fishermen were all superstitious creatures anyway, and would swear to Demyx's innocence whenever an overly pious citizen decided to investigate further.

Demyx seemed calm enough when Roxas approached him, if a little surprised, his toes brushing the surface of the water from his seat on the docks. "Morning, missionary," Demyx greeted with a wink that seemed to know too much. "Any new claims I'm unnatural or am I in real trouble for once?"

"No, it's nothing like that," Roxas replied. "Um... was it you? In the forest last night with the li-" Roxas found himself pitched forward in the water, gasped for air when he returned to the surface. "Huh?"

"Don't talk to him or about him," Demyx replied perkily. "You're better off not knowing. Oh, and thank your uncle for the ducking - now everyone thinks I'm innocent." Demyx flashed a too-white grin before getting up and tottering off. True to what was expected of all innocents Demyx had sunk in the river the one time rumours escalated to the point of a trial being necessary, and by all rights given the time taken to get him back out should have drowned. Even though he'd been fine he wasn't letting Roxas' uncle forget what he'd allowed to happen.

As to the advice, Roxas considered it carefully before making his mind up.

He was going to need a bigger rope.

.

It took a while to find the flashes second time around but he was treading carefully this time, his light weight making him stealthy enough without practise, but as soon as he was within range of the source of the lights he found himself dropping to his knees out of sight quickly, covering his mouth and curling up against a nearby tree. The clearing was barely large enough to qualify as one, but candles surrounded it and in the middle, holding two large - rings? Spike-edged rings seemed as close as he could come to describing them - was the red-haired man Roxas _knew_ he'd seen in church and school several times before, taking a long swig from a chalice he barely managed to hold along with the ring in his right hand before setting the cup down and going quite still for a moment. Roxas shivered as he watched Axel shrug off his simple black garments, kicking them aside impatiently before seeming to get more comfortable with the rings. Despite the nudity there wasn't a second when Roxas believed that Axel felt the cold on his skin, skin pale and perfect from avoiding the sun like a noblewoman, and Roxas had read that it was wrong, god, so wrong to want to touch another man's skin like that, especially - and his mind could only whisper it like a dirty secret - especially a witch.

Axel shrugged his shoulders a moment before starting to move, slowly and hypnotically at first, almost swaying into his twirling of the rings like a dancer, but all of a sudden the motions sped up and it was impossible, it was impossible and _not natural_ for Axel's rings to light on fire without coming into contact with other flames, it was not natural for Axel to be unburnt, but then the clearing became a wall of flame and Axel was in there, arms and legs occasionally visible through breaks in the flames as little balls of fiery light drifted of into the forest, and Roxas was at once terrified and curious and aroused. Forever seemed to pass when the flames died down and Axel, hovering barely off the floor but hovering nonetheless, collapsed to his knees before lying back against the floor, seeming limp.

Roxas couldn't help his instincts, took the rope from around his waist before tying it up into the branches of the nearest tree and running to Axel's side, the clearing bizarrely cool and unburnt for what had passed, and he scooped the red-haired man up into his lap. "Axel? Are you alright?"

Bright, bright green eyes snapped open. "I told you not to come back, missionary."

"I'm not my uncle," Roxas insisted, stroking his fingers through the - appropriately - flame red of Axel's hair. The school teachers had called it the devil's colour in its vividness - no auburn, no ginger, just pure red - and while he'd been able to hide that for the most part beneath hats that did not suit him while out in the village, no one had been able to make up their minds about the marks under his eyes. Triangular birthmarks, though there had been plenty of debate as to whether they were god's tears or the devil's.

"Why did you follow?" Axel asked, not moving his head and Roxas was suddenly glad because he'd given no consideration to the evidence of arousal between his thighs. "So you can tell everyone the truth about the forest witch?"

"I don't talk to other people," Roxas replied, and it seemed strange that Axel wasn't moving, though maybe it was exhaustion that kept him there. "Not about things that matter. When I do talk all they ever listen to is my uncle - what little of him he's ground into me."

"Are you going to tell him about the witch you hunted?" Axel asked, raising an eyebrow in... judgement? Curiosity? Roxas couldn't tell.

"No."

"... What do you want?" Axel asked, looking up at Roxas and raising one hand to touch his face, not hesitating even when Roxas instinctively flinched away from someone else's hand on his skin. He couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch on realising it was safe despite its making his reaction to Axel all the more evident, Axel's nudity at once beautiful and alien because it was so casual, as if he thought nothing of being naked in the middle of the forest. "I'm not trading sex for safety."

"I wouldn't tell anyone anyway," Roxas said, his own fingers frozen in Axel's hair as the red-haired man's hand stroked down his cheek, thumb tracing his lips. "I don't want you endangered."

Axel slipped his thumb between Roxas' lips briefly before pulling his hand away so he could suck the moisture off. "Do I scare you?"

"No. Yes. You're strange," Roxas stammered out, feeling his breath come faster and unsteady. "I want to understand this."

Axel's fingers were skinny as he remembered as they worked on the buttons of his shirt and he really should have protested, the night air chilling his skin as it was exposed, but he didn't want to, felt as if he was dancing on the edge between the world he'd lived in for so long and a world he _wanted_ to live in, a world where everything was strange and beautiful like a fire witch; like _this_ fire witch who had to be casting some sort of spell on him, his nerves shivery with more than the cold. "What do you want this to be?" Axel asked, eyes intense when they met Roxas' own.

"I want this to be normal instead of what the books say."

Axel got up at last, turning so he was kneeling in front of Roxas, hands working swiftly on unbuckling and unbuttoning and freeing his erection and if he hadn't squeezed tight around the base Roxas would have been gone there and then. "There's one hell of a lot of good things those books don't teach," Axel said, kissing Roxas briefly before lowering himself and then, then his mouth was hot and wet around Roxas' erection and the hand was gone, and there was little to do but buck up helplessly and wonder where the hell normality had disappeared off to.

.

How Roxas was to keep a straight face in church he had no idea, especially when Demyx and Axel decided to take seats either side of him - Demyx, who people openly knew wasn't quite right, who hadn't been to church in years because he'd never bothered to keep up a charade and, in the end, had never needed to. And Demyx winked! "You said not to go," Roxas hissed mid-hymn to Demyx, who just smirked and whispered back,

"Was there a surer way to make sure you did?"

Axel said nothing, just stood close enough to make sure their legs brushed when they knelt, keeping his face straight as if still playing the part of a normal villager as per usual, even when the missionary looked over their way with impotent fury at his nephew being sandwiched between the devil-haired boy and the cockiest witch ever born in the godforsaken country.

Not quite as impotently furious after the service though, spitting venom at the serenely amused Demyx and glaring at Axel with the sort of fury that might have enabled a traditional fairytale witch to kill someone. Roxas kept his own innocent face in place for as long as he was able, inwardly sighing; given just having Axel sat by him was enough to send his uncle into an apoplectic rage, something suggested any liaisons with Axel were going to involve more secrecy than heading to one another's homes and locking the doors and windows. Not that the level of precaution necessary was surprising, just... sad. As much as he didn't share his uncle's beliefs and doubted that the man loved him, he was still family and he liked to hold out some hope that he'd soften a little someday.

.

It was quite upsetting to discover that Axel's aptitude for fire magic and Demyx's for water magic were just natural traits - that people tended to simply be born that way. And moreover, their magic only extended to their respective elements, so despite the way Demyx's behaviour had been noted to have a 'visionary' feel to it by one or two people, Roxas knew it was nonsense. Yes, once or twice he predicted things that came true, but he always called it coincidence and Axel explained it away as "Demyx can't see the future - he's just smart enough and observant enough to figure out what most people are going to do before they do it". Also explained why he didn't have a doom and gloom air around him; his carefree moments rang true and he was identifiably young.

Everyone had the capability for working with magic, Axel said, but finding out one's affinity was the hardest task because so many bordered on obscure. A little girl two countries over only discovered hers on being hit by lightning four times without the slightest burn, and Demyx claimed to have met one guy who'd learnt his when he accidentally walked off a cliff while drunk and never got around to falling, though that did sound a little as though the two were pulling his leg.

And speaking of pulling legs, in this case apart, Axel was insatiable. Admittedly the first time they'd met properly had ended with Axel's face between his legs so that should have been a sign, but it was still startling when the second time they were alone together Axel pinned him up against a tree, doing things with his hands there were unholy sorts of good.

The third time Axel had knelt over Roxas and lowered himself, taking Roxas in, and if the complicity in witchcraft weren't enough then that was the seal on the contract sending him to hell - had he believed in it for a second. It was meant to be immoral, the sort of behaviour that was meant to be disgusting and vile, but in practise... he'd felt like he was dying of Axel's magic, nerves aflame as he poured out into the red-haired man, but he hadn't died and it had felt... he hadn't known his body could let him feel so good.

He'd looked at girls in the past, had never thought about boys or the possibility of liking boys, but he'd never paid much attention to his thoughts and as such didn't even realise he'd stopped looking after Axel became part of his life. Might never have realised if Axel hadn't casually mentioned while passing by him in school that Demyx was very fond of water sprites and the involuntary mental image had startled him but done little else.

.

Both were careful not to kiss or hold one another unless certain they were unobserved and not about to get interrupted, but people would have to be blind and deaf to miss that they were talking now despite maybe a handful of words having passed between them in previous years. Axel's pretence of being a normal, ordinary villager had been so damned convincing despite the markings; even in conversation he could switch topics from anything contentious to perfectly innocent nonsense with a flick of the tongue. Thankfully, it was only Roxas' uncle who thought there was anything more sinister than a new friendship developing between them so as long as he kept silent on that front and stayed out of Axel's way as much as possible when his uncle was around, they were left alone for the most part. Even if that hadn't been the case, few in the village stayed up much after night fell, allowing them near free reign in the darkness.

Demyx seemed to prefer living his own, fairly carefree life, enjoyed the daylight openly and was blatant in his blasphemies against nature, but Axel and Roxas made do with the night for the most part. Axel didn't seem to mind, had apparently been practising his fire magic late into the night for years now, and that certainly explained the pale skin further than his red hair did given that his mother had been auburn-haired with ruddy skin according to description, god rest her soul. Roxas liked to tease that Axel was pale enough now that he'd never get colour even if he wanted to as the sun's attempts to darken him would just be reflected away. And it wasn't as if the nights were short enough to leave them both looking sleepless in school; the sun seemed a lazy thing at this time of year, barely reaching halfway up the sky before beginning to descend again. Strangely enough, he missed it even if lengthy days would have meant less time spent with Axel; as Axel felt at home with fire, Roxas felt safe in daylight, wished the moon could be brighter or flames burn fiercer to mimic the sun's effects better.

Even though he wasn't able to join in, Roxas still loved to watch Axel work his magic; more so when Axel taught him how to climb the trees despite their surfaces and fragile lower branches not lending themselves to the task, as it allowed him to see over the wall of flames into the clearing. The flames themselves made little sense to him, the way they felt real if he got too close, certainly looked real, but didn't burn the trees or ground of the clearing - almost like a human-specific illusion - but he allowed himself to be mystified. Axel seemed to be able to entirely change his weight as he pleased, landing heavily some of the time, dancing light as air at others, and he truly looked like something wild. And to think, he'd never been interested in other people, not really, before Axel; hadn't even found Demyx interesting because he'd thought the rumours were just rumours. Magic made the two of them wild and different and natural somehow despite the impossibility of what they did; it seemed to bring them to life in a way no one without magic could experience.

Once he asked Axel why he never asked for privacy in his craft, why Axel didn't seem to mind being vulnerable like this around him - and it _did_ make him more vulnerable than when they were naked together because that was physical vulnerability and this was something else - and Axel had just laughed and said, "Because I burn better when you're around."

He hadn't noticed, didn't know if Axel had made that up to make him feel better, but be it a lie or not, it was appreciated.

.

Under normal circumstances Roxas would never visit the tavern, but Axel had wanted a drink and Roxas was happy to accompany him as long as he wasn't expected to do much drinking himself and they sat in a corner where he wasn't going to be seen should his uncle pass by. It still mystified him that his uncle had such a distaste for alcohol; disliking the taste he understood but calling it amoral didn't fit with preaching about a man who turned water into wine.

"Mm, I needed that," Axel half-gasped after downing a fair amount of his pint in a matter of seconds, drinking it like a man fresh out of the desert. "Don't like drinking on my own or I'd've had one sooner."

Roxas smiled but said nothing, looking around at the faces in the pub, surprising himself with how many people he could name. Only a few escaped his memory but they tended to be those who he'd never seen in church. "You like this?"

"Other people can be interesting," Axel replied, one hand lazily gripping his pint while the other tapped rhythmically on the table. "It's not worth the effort, figuring people out, not most of the time. But you learn fun things just watching or listening."

"Like?"

"Well, like there's apparently a 'proper' witch hunt passing through soon," Axel began. "Overheard Luxord saying something about a farmer in Nascholme getting torched because his crops were 'unnaturally' good and he'd never grown a beard."

Roxas found himself laughing even though he knew he shouldn't, knew that you weren't _ever_ meant to laugh at someone else's death. "You'd be in trouble, then. Besides, that's not really learning anything, that's just listening in on the news."

"Fine! Want to test me?" Axel looked over in one corner and Roxas followed his gaze for a moment before it returned to him. "Saw who I was looking at?"

"Yes, Lexaeus, why?"

"Well, our silent hero blacksmith," Axel began, eyes flicking up nervously every so often as if he was anxious of being caught talking; not surprising given Lexaeus was slightly better built than the average horse. "Has an interesting hobby outside of his craft."

Roxas brightened up for a moment before feeling a sudden rush of disbelief. "You're lying. He's not a witch."

"Better than that," Axel replied with a grin, watching the entrance eagerly for a minute until the almost comically diminutive figure of the records keeper entered. "And here's the hobby."

Full credit to Axel for knowing Zexion's schedule - not that there was any surprise in someone who had to be as fixated on details as a records keeper having a schedule - but still, that didn't guarantee anything, and certainly not what Axel was insinuating. "No."

"Watch. Not too closely, just - they'll sit and Zexion'll talk at him through the last of his regular three pints, and then they'll head back to one or the other's house and make interesting noises."

"Now I _know_ you're lying."

Axel raised one eyebrow. "He's had two already, count the glasses. This is his last."

Roxas figured he could sit through idly glancing at Lexaeus' third pint to prove a point, even if it did mean trying not to be amused by the fact that 'talk at him' was a cruel but very accurate way of describing Zexion's conversation technique. It wasn't that Lexaeus looked uninterested, just that the blacksmith was never known for being verbose and seemed all the quieter in comparison with his odd choice of drinking partner.

The third pint disappeared and Roxas watched Lexaeus get up, waited for him to head to the bar again. Except that, of course, he didn't. He headed out. Followed a few brief moments later by Zexion.

Axel finished the last of his own pint, leant in close again to whisper, "Who got it wrong?"

"I won't believe it until I see it," Roxas muttered, giving Axel a friendly smack before he said anything to go with the wicked expression that had flickered across his face. "I'd best be heading back before I'm late for dinner."

"Sure. Why don't I go with you, make it a foursome?"

The smack wasn't quite as friendly this time but Axel opted to behave, pulling his coat back on and leading the way. Roxas did yelp a little on having his own coat tugged at before he headed out through the door, turned to find the source of the tug was Luxord, looking fairly amused and a little worse for wear drinks-wise. "Does your uncle know you're here?"

"Um," Roxas began, hating himself for blushing fiercely in embarrassment. It wasn't as if there was anything technically _wrong_ in his being there.

"Heh, thought not. Don't worry, I won't tell."

"Thanks," Roxas half-stuttered before heading out hastily, finding Axel playing very ill advised tricks with his fingers and the oil lamp set outside the tavern. "Quit that before someone sees you."

"Sure thing," Axel replied, winking and pulling back his oil-slicked fingers, blowing out the flames before they could do any damage. Roxas didn't care what Axel claimed about the oil protecting his skin from blistering as long as he didn't let it heat up, it wasn't a clever trick even if it did look impressive. Besides, he was hungry.

The fact the route to his house happened to pass by Lexaeus' home was just coincidence.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone tensed when the black and white clad witch-hunters rode into the village for the first time, even Demyx toning his behaviour down enough that the fishermen could pass him off as an idiot who just helped them out once in a while in exchange for food. It would have been too easy to tease him about the convincing acting if it weren't for the risk of being overheard, and while the older ladies of the village - especially the widowed or unmarried - received the bulk of attention from the hunters, Axel's hair and marks had drawn plenty of notice.

Even if doing so meant drawing his uncle's anger again Roxas returned to talking with Axel openly, sitting with him in church, anything to make Axel look like the perfectly normal if unusual looking friend of the preacher's nephew. Those men had brought wood and instruments Roxas couldn't imagine uses for, and he'd be damned before he saw any of those used on Axel; moreover, he'd seen the men's faces and didn't doubt for a moment that they had been ready to watch other people burn. Sharp, determined faces, one of them wearing an angry-looking scar in the shape of a cross that reminded Roxas all too much of the god in his uncle's books before the message started becoming one of love rather than punishment.

Playing Axel's friend was easy enough but with night no longer refuge and all houses open to searches, being unable to touch him was getting harder and the strain was starting to show in Axel as well, the brief stolen kisses when they had time to themselves not enough. If it weren't for investigations into Demyx's odd survival of dunking without floating and two of the older women in the village who'd never got on accusing each other of consorting with the devil the men might have moved on in a week or two, but with an actual trial for the women being prepared they were staying upwards of a month. Even if the descriptions of the devil going around were getting wilder and more amusing - one woman insisted he had thick braided hair and sideburns that added to his dark expressions; the other insisted the hair was sleek and silvered, that the devil had multiple and varied scars and a penchant for walking on the ceiling - it was maddening to be left with all this unsatisfied want.

Axel seemed to be suffering equally and Roxas had to duck out of his way more than the once, nearly giving in despite the risk on one occasion when Axel had caught him down at the docks and slid arms around his waist for a moment, pressing up against him from behind before saying "God, I miss how you feel. I don't burn the same without you."

"Another month," Roxas reminded him. "They can't stay much longer than that, we can hold out."

"Speak for yourself," Axel huffed, letting Roxas go and kicking the water. "Demyx needs to flow but he can swim anytime he likes and ease that urge. What am I meant to do?"

"You have candles, don't you?"

"Not the same thing," Axel replied, scratching his arm and looking thoughtful. "I can keep sneaking off without you but..."

"Don't get caught if you do," Roxas insisted, glancing around the area before stealing Axel's hat so he could run his fingers through the vivid red hair while giving him a slightly more lingering kiss than their more recent ones had been. "Promise."

"Don't you trust me?" Axel stole the hat back and fixed it in place, grinning wickedly and taking another quick kiss before heading off again, looking decidedly perkier than he had been earlier even if he was still missing something in his step.

.

Roxas could have throttled Axel on turning in the middle of getting dressed several mornings later and finding his shutters open, the red-haired man watching with his head resting on folded arms. "Oh that's smart," Roxas hissed before opening the window wider to let him in, looking around quickly for any watchers before closing the window and shutters again. "It's still light!"

"Exactly," Axel replied, grinning, before nudging Roxas back towards the bed. "All evil-doing is a night-time activity, apparently, and the preacher's due in church."

"As am I! What if someone saw you?" Roxas asked, still furious even though Axel's grin was going strange things to his stomach and he wasn't exactly fighting off the hand working on his belt buckle.

"Tell them I'm an evil incubus who makes you do wicked things. They'd deal with me first and I'd find a way out."

Axel's hands felt even better than he remembered and Roxas backed up enough to lie down on the bed, letting Axel kneel over him, and now that it was actually available to him he realised he'd missed this even more than he'd thought. "You want to burn at the stake?"

Axel grinned. "I always burn. It's being hung that frightens me." Roxas kept Axel from lowering himself, hooked both legs around the red-haired man's waist. "Uh?"

"I want to try things your way," Roxas explained, hoping he didn't sound too hesitant, and Axel frowned slightly as if puzzled before taking the oil he'd meant for himself and slicking his fingers, lifting Roxas' hips with one hand and sliding the oiled fingers underneath, pressing one in slowly as if he were the more nervous of them. It wasn't quite painful - pain came with the second finger and slow scissoring to open him up - more that it was alien to him. And then Axel pressed up against him, into him, replacing the fingers and it seemed too much, that he could never take it all, but Axel seemed to stop and pull back, easing into him the rest of the way with slow, short thrusts, and time itself seemed to slow with them as Axel pushed all the way inside him, so beautiful above him, and Roxas nodded for him to keep going.

It stopped hurting soon enough, or maybe it was just hurting in a different, better way, but as good as Axel's hands were on him, as good as Axel felt inside him, it was Axel's expressions and helpless little sounds that were ruining him. Whispers of "Please," and "Yes" and "Let me", and Roxas didn't remember saying anything back but he knew he had to bite his lip to stop himself getting too loud as he came across their chests.

He'd had to kiss Axel towards the end, holding the back of his head to make sure all his cries were swallowed, but god, it felt so different being on the receiving end, feeling Axel coming inside him instead of over him, and he was ready to say something when Axel pressed an arm across his neck and whispered in his ear, "Struggle, I'm a godless heretic incubus who's seduced you."

Before he could ask anything the bedroom door slammed open, the black and white clad men barging in followed by his uncle and his fear of them must have looked convincingly enough like fear of Axel because as soon as they'd hauled Axel off and dragged him grinning out of the room, they were wrapping him in the bedsheets and pouring water over him, checking his throat for marks, and the next thing he knew he was locked in his uncle's library with two of the other men, a change of clothes, and no clue as to what was to become of himself or Axel.

.

As it turned out he wouldn't have to look for answers; one person's news in a village was everyone's news, and it seemed Roxas and Demyx were not the only ones to have witnessed Axel's fireworks in the forest. Vexen, a relatively quiet man who spent much of his time looking after the small library while working on his own writings, had made his own journey into the forest and seen 'unnatural doings'. And, like any good citizen, had commented to the visiting hunters on what he'd seen.

"A man who practises by cup and flame, shall perish by the fire," announced their leader, strange amber eyes glinting with something darker than righteousness as he dragged Axel - who, for all his new bruises and wounds, still smirked like a madman or immortal in the face of death - into the village centre and throwing him to the floor along with the chalice and spiked rings. Much of the village seemed absent despite the excitement but his uncle was there and Roxas knew, even before he opened his mouth, what was to be said. Calmly watching the wood for Axel's pyre pile up, his uncle told them of the other 'unnatural act' inflicted on his nephew before spitting on him and storming back into the house, heading upstairs to join Roxas at the window for a fine view of the proceedings.

"I knew he was the devil's the moment I saw that hair but no-one believed it until now on account of his mother. God only knows what damage he's done over the years."

Roxas glared up at his uncle, hoping his eyes said everything the bindings and gag prevented him saying with the rest of his body.

"Watch this, nephew. You'll need to if you're ever to recover from the damage he did you."

Axel still smiled, even as he was chained to the stake, his wrists looking too delicate for the links of metal and the paleness of his skin startling against the dark wood, more so given the broad daylight.

Where in hell was Demyx? He worked with water, couldn't he summon rain to quench the flames?

Roxas wanted to close his eyes but couldn't, had to watch pitch and oil be slung over the wood and Axel's clothing, listen to the hunters' oddly scarred priest given the expected speech about witchcraft and heresy, watch them hold the torch that would light the pyre as if it were a holy relic, watch it descend... forget his bonds, forget he'd already struggled until they were too tight from his struggling, tight enough to hurt, he had to try again. The straining did nothing but Axel winked at him, making his heart stop, before looking from the flames licking his feet to the witch hunters and smirking.

"You stupid bastards," Axel laughed loud enough for anyone to hear, and then had Roxas been able to move he'd have jumped out of his skin because the flames engulfed Axel all at once and it was the one visual that completely registered in his mind as a thousand things seemed to happen all at the same time. The room flashed bright with light he could feel through to his core, light that left everyone in the room save himself staggering with blindness; the window smashed; and the one thing he could hear over the roaring flames outside was "I hope you're Roxas" before he fell up.

There were arms around his waist as he looked down at the burning village and as he looked it occurred to him that looking down from a great height while moving with someone, a man, supported by nothing, that wasn't right, that wasn't, he -

He blacked out and felt himself slip slightly as a tight, gruff voice muttered expletives in his ear.

.

Axel's face. It was the first thing he noticed. Before the smell of burning, before realising his gag was gone, before remembering his rescuer had been _flying_, he noticed Axel's face. The now-distant flames were still reflected in his eyes but he was alive, alive, safe and unburnt, and his hands were working on untying Roxas' bonds. "What -"

Axel laughed wildly before interrupting. "What idiots try and burn a fire mage? Or, or is it a how? How did Xigbar fly with you? Maybe a where was Demyx?" Another laugh and he kissed Roxas hard, harder still on lifting him out of the damned chair into his lap.

"Or why the hell you've got chairs that weigh a ton," came the same gruff voice that had held him earlier, Xigbar, from nearby, "We're going to be finding somewhere harmless enough and I'd suggest you move with us if you don't fancy waiting to be hung by the next lot. Demyx! You done saying goodbye to your boyfriends?"

Demyx, Roxas say once he was beyond the point of Axel being his whole world, was stood over with the stunned fishermen and their families, going through each group with hugs and murmurs of 'thanks'. Xigbar looked impatient, frowning effectively enough with the one functioning eye through his scars and - oh, huh, ceilings and scars, looked like he was the old woman's devil after all - looking at Demyx as though the water-loving man was dessert.

Roxas knew that look, wondered if it explained why a guy he'd never met before was willing to rescue him and if he should thank Demyx for pulling that favour now or later, but Axel was kissing him again and his straying thoughts returned to that path and that oh, god, thank god, Axel was alive and looking at him with awe on pulling back from the kisses, brushing fingers across Roxas' lips before standing up shakily, bringing Roxas with him and standing back a little.

"I burnt them," Axel said quietly. As if Roxas hadn't noticed. "Rest of the village should get out alive, I don't really care, but they're going to be looking for Xigbar and me, probably until we die. I don't think your uncle's going to forgive us anytime soon for torching the hunters and half the buildings, really. I think you and Demyx's be alright if you went with the fishermen, you've got alibis, I guess." His voice was unsteady, stammering, and Roxas tilted his head back slightly to watch him finish. "Go with them and you're probably safe, and the bit of me that worries about you thinks that's a really good idea."

Roxas nodded and stepped back into Axel's personal space. "And the rest of you?"

Axel looked at Xigbar walking off towards the forest, picking up bow and quiver and slinging them over his shoulder on the way, before returning his gaze to Roxas. "Come with us. With me. It won't be safe but it won't ever be boring." Axel held his hand out towards Roxas.

"You're certain you want me running with you?" Roxas asked, looking briefly between Xigbar and the fishermen. "I'd slow you down."

"I burn better around you," Axel replied. "I don't have to pretend to feel. Come with me and I'll never leave."

Roxas looked at Axel's outstretched hand, considered it for a moment, what the future could hold.

He took that outstretched hand and ran until his feet were sore.

.

The End


End file.
